


Midnight Diner: Tokyo Story

by firefly_quill



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hanzo's doing better than he normally does, M/M, McCree is an angel, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, and he's not even in this story, smut in second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly_quill/pseuds/firefly_quill
Summary: "Dragons" animated short occurs during story.As people hurry homeward, their long day done, Hanzo’s day begins. They call it “The Midnight Diner”, a small—micro, really—pub on a narrow street, tucked under the dull roar of the trains that pass by overhead like muted dragons, a reminder of a different time, a different life. Hanzo’s shop only opens from midnight to 7 a.m. Does he even have customers? His diner attracts more people than you might think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, everyone!
> 
> This story is a bit of an experiment, and turned out very differently than I'd originally imagined. It is inspired by the show "Midnight Diner" ("Shinya Shokudo"). I am watching the Netflix version, and like it very much! Here is a trailer for the original:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZJQUGfazx4
> 
> I was trying to capture that sense of feeling lost and alienated in the city, but also the companionship that can develop in this space. 
> 
> Note that words in italics are either Hanzo's thoughts or, more likely, words spoken in Japanese. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think, if you have the time! <3
> 
>  **Edit:** I forgot to mention this is un-beta'd! Thank you so much to those of you who have pointed out some of my embarrassing errors!  <3 I am not very good at attention to detail...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100% fluff. 
> 
> All other tags to follow in second chapter. 
> 
> Which, honestly, means the second chapter is likely to implode on itself...

As people hurry homeward, their long day done, Hanzo’s day begins. 

They call it “The Midnight Diner”, a small—micro, really—pub on a narrow street, tucked under the dull roar of the trains that pass by overhead like muted dragons, a reminder of a different time, a different life. 

Hanzo’s shop only opens from midnight to 7 a.m. Does he even have customers? His diner attracts more people than you might think. 

After dismantling most of the Shimada Clan’s operations, and taking for himself a very generous “severance package”, Hanzo had fallen into a drunken stupor for about a week before realizing that his soul was still not at rest, and that there was still redemption to be had. He found solace in the bright blaze of the Shinjuku district’s lights, but more so in his own dark corner of it, tucked safely away from most prying eyes: a small calm in the raging city, that chaotic sprawl of concrete and human bodies. There was something intensely isolating about it: being caught in the thrum of city life, yet being alone and unknown, comfortably numb. 

His regulars are easy to recognize. They arrive with bent backs, and weary faces, the weight of the world literally crushing down on their bodies. It is a look that Hanzo himself is too familiar with. They arrive, and this heaviness lifts, if only for a few hours. They are able to smile again, knowing that in this place, at least, there is no one to answer to; there is no judgement.

The cowboy arrived several months after he had opened his doors for the first time. 

“Irrashai!” Hanzo had called absently upon hearing the sliding door open. He was in the kitchen preparing vegetables, back turned. He heard a jingle of metal. Wiping his hands, he emerged through the low, narrow door frame to greet his new guest. 

“Howdy!” The man grabbed at the rim of his cowboy hat in greeting. A thick, red scarf wrapped his broad shoulders. The fabric stopped at the elbow of the arm that was still by his side, just high enough to reveal metal, prosthetic fingers. The metallic sound had come from the spurs on his cowboy boots. Hanzo was accustomed to all manners of dress in central Toyko. It was the body armor and the glint of the man’s pistol that made him wary. He schooled his features, and gestured that the man should sit wherever he liked. 

It was a quiet evening, and this man was currently the only customer (despite the fact that the diner could only ever sit about 8). 

The man took the seat closest to Hanzo, and fixed him with a lopsided grin. 

“May I help you?” Hanzo asked impassively in English. He mentally catalogued the weapon-like implements available to him, and calculated how he might get to his Storm Bow if needed. It was hidden on a shelf in the kitchen. 

“I sure hope so! Built up a terrible appetite sightseeing today. Also wouldn’t say no to a beer.” 

The cowboy’s friendly drawl did not exactly put Hanzo at ease, but neither was it a threat. Hanzo nodded, retreating to kitchen, and returning with a bottle of Asahi and a small glass. 

“Thank you kindly!” The cowboy looked relieved to see the beverage. He picked up the glass and examined it with such curiosity that Hanzo laughed, despite himself. This drew that man’s attention, and another goofy smile. Hanzo could feel his ears burn at the scrutiny, and inwardly chastised himself. 

“It is called a glass. It holds liquid,” he answered instead, wryly. The customer gave a booming laugh. 

“Beg pardon, I’ve just never seen one this small.” He poured the beer into the glass and raised it towards Hanzo before emptying it in one gulp, to Hanzo’s amusement.

“You would like food?” he inquired. 

The man nodded. 

“I do not get many tourists, and do not have an English menu, but I will make you anything that I can, as long as I have the ingredients.” 

The customer gave him another easy smile. “Whatever you think best then, darlin’. I’ll put myself in your hands.”

There was something about the way the man said the last part that made the nerves along Hanzo’s back tingle—not in an unpleasant way, but in a way that he had not felt in a long time. 

Hanzo ignored the sensation, nodding and returning to the kitchen again. 

_Foolish. To let down your guard when facing an armed man._ It unnerved him, the speed with which this stranger had established familiarity. 

“Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree,” the customer shuffled along the bench so that he was closer to the kitchen. “What’d they call you, sweetheart?”

“Certainly not ‘sweetheart’,” Hanzo shot the man a scowl. This only seemed to please McCree. “They call me Master.”

There was a silence, and then laughter.

“No…not in that way!” Hanzo sputtered. The laughter stopped immediately. 

“I’m sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to make fun. They probably mean it outta respect. Your customers must think highly of you to call you that.”

Hanzo peered through opening between the kitchen and seating area. The cowboy looked earnest.

“It is nothing.” 

‘So. How does a man decide to open a place like this?” McCree asked casually. 

It wasn’t the first time Hanzo had been asked this question, and he had his answer. 

“He does so when he becomes tired of the demands that everyday life brings.”

It was not a lie, after all. 

McCree hummed. “Ain’t that the truth. What kinda life did you leave?”

“I was an executive, in a large company,” Once again, not a lie. “I realized that the life was not for me.”

“Good on ya,” McCree poured more of his beer into the cup. 

“And you? What do you do for work, Mr. McCree?”

“Aww, just McCree is fine. I’d prefer Jesse though,” he winked. Hanzo pursed his lips and scowled. “I work in security. Mostly get hired for protection against omnics.”

Hanzo found this to be a very convenient, very safe explanation for the man’s attire and weapon, but did not pursue it further. 

“And what brings you to Japan?”

“Work. Got a contract that might take a while.” Hanzo flickered his eyes up from his preparation to find McCree studying him closely. He could not puzzle out the meaning, but filed the moment away. He brought out a large bowl of thick noodles, meat and crisp green vegetables in clear soup broth.

“Try this.”

The cowboy sniffed at the bowl happily, and readied his chopsticks. Hanzo’s lips quirked in a smile, observing his excitement. 

“This…is delicious!” McCree managed to say between bites. Hanzo snorted. 

“You sound surprised.” 

The cowboy looked guilty. “Honestly didn’t think a businessman would be able to cook so damn well.”

Hanzo shrugged. “It is simply a matter of precision, and was not difficult to learn.” 

He was telling this man far too much that came far too close to the truth, yet somehow he could not stop. 

McCree made another pleased sound, that came a bit too close to a moan, and continued to eat far too fast. 

“Keep this up, darlin’, and you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

And he arrived almost every evening thereafter. 

\--- 

McCree would come in at various times, depending on his work. It seemed that the cowboy preferred the early hours of the morning, when it was quietest, and when he was most likely to find Hanzo alone. He would then stay until the shop closed, heading home when most had just begun their day. 

He became such a fixture that Hanzo’s other regulars knew to leave his spot—the seat closest to the kitchen, and closest to Hanzo—open, just in case the man were to arrive. 

Hanzo was no fool: he could read the signals as clearly as his regulars, who would often shoot the two of them knowing glances and smiles. They knew better than to bring up the subject when McCree was present, however, and he was almost always present. Hanzo himself wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about what might be developing. He was once convinced that he was not worthy of affection. Guilt for his past actions required penance of some sort, and since no one else was left to extract it, Hanzo was determined to tear himself apart, in whatever ways possible. Having observed his customers, however, and hearing about their own mistakes and insecurities, and also, their unexpected triumphs, made him realize that perhaps no one really deserved love at all. Perhaps it was something that just happened: rare, unexpected, fragile, tempestuous, yet singularly beautiful.

Just the same, he just took comfort that he would not have to face decisions of any sort, as long as Jesse never asked.

\--- 

Several weeks later, Midori arrived just as the clock struck three. 

“ _Master! It’s been too long!_ ” came the high pitched squeal in Japanese.

Hanzo emerged from the kitchen. 

“Midori-san,” he smiled. The woman was dressed in a neon pink micro-dress that had a thatched front piece to accentuate the deep plunge of the neckline. Her matching vinyl heels were impossibly high, but still did not bring her to Hanzo’s height. He was a bit relieved to see her: the length of her absence meant that she had a romantic interest, and her choice in romantic interests was hardly ever prudent. Her return, on the other hand, meant that she had tired of the man.

He offered her a seat. 

“ _What can I get you?_ ”

“ _Beer, please!_ ” She announced. “ _And tofu egg on rice!_ ”

“ _Right away_.”

Midori took off her fur-lined coat, and hung it by the door. She seemed to prepare herself, taking a deep breath, before launching into a quick flurry of words. 

Hanzo smiled again fondly from the kitchen. Something about this girl reminded him of a younger Genji. While this fact had bothered him at first, bringing back far too many of the bad memories with the good, the sheer force of Midori’s energy and enthusiasm had broken through the burden of sadness and guilt that Hanzo wore as his armor. Her ability to do so also reminded him of his brother.

McCree arrived almost an hour later. “Howdy, Master!”

Midori’s eyes widened. _”Master!_ ” She scolded. “ _You’re supposed to tell me when devastatingly handsome men become your regulars!_ ”

“ _He is not your type_ ,” Hanzo snapped, perhaps with too much force. 

Midori’s wide grin returned. “ _Ahh, but he is yours?_ ” she purred. 

“Tch,” Hanzo dismissed the comments with a wave. Midori had identified Hanzo’s preference for partners almost right away, and pressed him about it whenever she could. Once again, something that should have repelled Hanzo drew his affection: it was the first time anyone had spoken with him so openly about such a personal topic, the first time anyone had shown such aggressive acceptance for who he was.

McCree was looking back and forth between the two, not understanding the conversation, and politely keeping out of it. “Please, McCree. Sit anywhere you like. I would suggest a spot as far away from this creature as possible.”

Midori pouted. 

McCree laughed, and obediently took a seat a distance down the bench, which just happened to be his normal spot. It was an exercise in futility: Midori scooted over right away.

“So obedient! Do you listen to him all the time?” She purred in English. McCree looked up at Hanzo helplessly. 

“Do not scare away my customers.”

“I’m not scaring him away! I’m just getting to know him, Mr…” 

“McCree. No ‘mister’,” McCree’s smile was not as bright as usual.

“He even has a cowboy name!” she cooed. 

“Midori,” Hanzo warned again.

“Tell me, McCree-san, how long have you been coming to visit Master?” She grabbed at his arm, looking at him eagerly for details. 

“Midori!”

“You know, he might seem serious, but really he is a big fuzzy teddy be—”

“ _Midori, one more word, and this package of anchovies is going into your rice._ ” Hanzo switched to Japanese, said package raised in threa

Midori burst into laughter. “ _Defensive, aren’t we?_ ” 

Hanzo’s frown deepened. She grinned, but backed off. _”Okay, but we’re gonna talk about this later!_ ”

Hanzo huffed, and turned away, smiling a bit despite himself. He returned to the main room moments later, with a large bottle of Asahi and a glass for McCree. 

“So, McCree. What do you do for work?”

“Oh, um well…” 

Midori and McCree talked as Hanzo prepared their food. He would cut into their conversation every once in a while, often to fend off Midori’s teasing, sometimes to laugh at her irreverence. Hanzo noticed though that the cowboy seemed uneasy.

“Is she bothering you?” Hanzo inquired while Midori was in the washroom.

“Oh, not at all! She’s full of energy, huh?”

Hanzo laughed. “That is an understatement.”

McCree rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’ve known her for a while?”

“She was one of my first regulars. Her hours at the hostess club mean she does not eat well if she does not eat here.”

“So you take care of her.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “As I do all my guests.” 

“You…that’s um…”

“Is there something wron—“

“You sure talk and laugh a lot more when she’s here,” Jesse blurted suddenly. 

The two men looked at each other for a moment, stunned by the outburst. 

Midori came down the stairs just then, confused by the silence. She took one look at McCree’s face and shot Hanzo an irritated glare. 

“Who’s scaring who now?”

“What?! I did nothing—!” 

“Drinking game time!” Midori announced, taking her seat next to McCree again. 

“Beg pardon?” McCree was unaccustomed to her jumps in logic.

“Master ruined the mood. Time for a drinking game,” she explained. The cowboy looked at her as though he still didn’t follow, but smiled weakly and went along with it. 

An hour later, Midori seemed to be losing. Several other customers had arrived in the meantime, keeping Hanzo busy. He listened carefully to their conversation, even while pretending not to. 

Midori leaned over.

“Cowboy,” She whispered loudly. Hanzo rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, ma’am?” McCree seemed amused, more relaxed. 

“Master…he is very handsome isn’t he?” she giggled. 

“Midori!” Hanzo barked sternly. His other customers were just leaving. 

To his confusion, and also, if he were honest, to his disappointment, McCree was gathering his belongings as well, in a hurry.

“Oh. Are you—“

“Love to stay, Master, but I gotta early day ahead,” The words were rushed. “Don’t wanna get in your way if you got plans after this…”

Midori understood immediately, and grabbed McCree’s arm. 

“Oh no! Oh no no, don’t go, cowboy! I didn’t ask for me!” She pulled him down closer and spoke again in what barely counted as a whisper. “He doesn’t like tits.”

“MIDORI!” 

McCree’s eyes widened. He allowed Midori to pull him so that he was seated on the bench again. She stood instead, and gathered her things. Her movements no longer seemed weighed down or sluggish.

“Don’t wanna get in your way if you got plans after this!” She announced, in a bad imitation of Jesse’s drawl.

“ _You were pretending to be drunk!_ ” Hanzo accused. 

She looked at him disdainfully. “ _What kind of hostess would I be if I couldn’t handle my liquor? And how else was I going to ensure you’d let me say what I needed to say?_ ” She flashed him a grin. “ _Put the food on my tab_ ,” she purred. “ _I expect a discount though if you two end up fucking._ ”

“ _Insolent brat!_ ” Hanzo growled back. He threw a towel, which she dodged easily.

“Bye bye!” She called, closing the door firmly behind her. 

The two men once again stared at each other, still in shock. 

McCree tried to break the silence first. “So she’s very…”

“Blunt.” 

Jesse laughed. It faltered when it found no response, and they sat in silence again. 

“Listen,” McCree began, awkwardly. “I got the day off tomorrow. You don’t open on weekends, so if you don’t have plans, maybe…I could take you out, treat you for once, for takin’ such good care of me.” 

Jesse seemed fascinated by the empty glass in front of him the entire time he spoke. 

“That is unnecessary. I do what I must,” Hanzo answered instinctively, with a wave of his hand. 

“You go beyond what you ‘must’, darlin’,” Jesse looked up to meet his gaze, disapproval crinkling the corners of his eyes. “So let me take care of you. For one day.”

His cheeks flushed while speaking those words, and he looked down again. Hanzo realized that the man was bracing himself for rejection. 

He hesitated. 

“I wake up at 1 o’clock on Saturdays,” he said at last. 

Jesse’s chin snapped upwards, eyes widening. 

“If you have nothing better to do with your time, then perhaps I can keep you company.”

“There is nothin’ more I’d rather do with my time!” McCree jumped up, and took both of Hanzo’s hands into his own. Hanzo stiffened, and pulled back a bit, but forced himself to relax after seeing the hurt in Jesse’s eyes. 

“I apologize. I am not accustomed to…this.” He interlaced his fingers with the other man’s, in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. It worked. McCree grinned. 

“No need to apologize at all! We’ll go as slow as you like!” He tightened his grasp. “I’m just happy as a kitten in a sunbeam you said yes.”

Hanzo snorted. “Ridiculous man.”

A warmth grew in his chest as Jesse tried to pull him closer across the counter. He could feel the feeling crawling up his neck, across his cheeks. 

Perhaps it would be alright, to allow himself this, to see where it would go.

“2 o’clock. Don’t be late.” 

\--- 

At exactly 1:59pm the next day, Hanzo heard a short rap at the sliding door. He looked at himself once more in the mirror, taking a deep breath, and cursing the lack of imagination of his wardrobe. He was wearing a dark blue v-neck shirt, and form fitting black jeans. His hair was tied back with a long, silk, golden ribbon. It wasn’t that he looked bad, necessarily, it was really that he had few other choices. The gentle rap came again. He grabbed his blue and mustard yellow scarf and dark blue cotton jacket on his way out, and hurried down the stairs to unlock the door. 

“Oh howdy,” McCree breathed in what looked like relief. “You’re here.”

“You did not expect me to be?”

“To be honest, I was worried you’d changed your mind,” McCree grabbed at his hat again, nervously. He was wearing a plain white cotton shirt instead of the armor, but otherwise the rest of his outfit was the same. 

“You look gorgeous, darlin’,” he was beaming. 

“You look well,” Hanzo replied hesitantly. McCree’s smile widened. He gestured to the street outside. 

“Shall we?”

Hanzo nodded. 

They walked down the narrow alley, towards the sound of the city, conversing casually. McCree’s fingers brushed against Hanzo’s every once in a while, but the man made no motion to grab his hand, to Hanzo’s simultaneous relief and disappointment.

They fought their way through the Saturday crowds of the district, past the noise, the cars, and the crush of bodies, yet oddly it felt like in a city of millions, they were walking alone together. It was comfortable. 

“Figured you’d like to eat somethin’. Is ramen okay?” 

“I enjoy ramen very much,” Hanzo replied, pleased. 

They turned a few more corners to quiet alley, much like the one that was home to the diner. McCree lead them to a small shop, still mostly full despite the later hour.  
They looked over the vending machine menu options, none of which was in English. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to do the orderin’, darlin’,” McCree confessed. 

Hanzo nodded. “How did you learn of this place? It is not one frequented by tourists.” 

“Oh? Took it on a recommendation from a friend. Hope it meets your approval,” McCree answered breezily. 

Hanzo selected a bowl of noodles for each of them, and they took their seats at the bar at the chef’s beckoning.

The food met with approval from both of them from the very first bite. 

“I cannot believe I’ve not been here before,” Hanzo managed, between slurps. 

“Hope I can convince you to come back again? With me?” Jesse winked. 

Hanzo hummed. “It will not take much convincing.” 

The response made McCree pause (which was remarkable, Hanzo noted, as very few things could stop McCree if he was eating). 

They finished and paid for the meal, diving back into the hurried frenzy of the city. 

“I was hoping we’d take a bit of a walk, seein’ it’s a nice day? Nothin’ too strenuous,” McCree promised. 

Hanzo was expecting to be taken to one of the larger parks in central Tokyo, and braced himself for the crush of tourists and weekend locals. Instead, they took the train to a fairly remote stop. Once again, McCree walked with purpose and direction, up a path that was increasingly winding and increasingly narrow. The trees grew more dense as the path eventually gave way to dirt. 

Hanzo found that talking with Jesse was easy. He learned about foothills and azure blue sky of Santa Fe. He learned about what Jesse found most different in his travels to the many cities related to his work. 

“Your diner is the closest thing I’ve felt to home in a while.” Hanzo looked up at McCree, and found the man to be in earnest. In the end, he was the one who grabbed the cowboy’s hand, to Jesse’s delight. 

Hanzo spoke about the tranquil beauty of Hanamura, but also of the strict, enforced decorum that always seemed ready to break at the slightest pressure. 

“You miss it?”

“I do and I do not,” Hanzo said slowly, not having considered the question. “I miss my home dearly. I do not miss the duties and responsibilities that it brought.”

McCree nodded, and did not press. 

They reached a higher point on the hill, and found a spot under a tree that overlooked the sprawl of the city. The mid-spring breeze was crisper up here, and the chill was invigorating. 

“Beautiful,” Hanzo observed with a contented sigh. 

“Sure is,” McCree answered, voice full of affection. Hanzo turned to find the man looking directly at him, and blushed. 

“You seem to know more about this city than even I.”

McCree shifted slightly. “Just know some helpful friends, is all. Oh! Nearly forgot.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out some water, as well as two pink daifuku. Hanzo peered at them, surprised to find that they were strawberry. 

“These are my favourite,” Hanzo gaped. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” McCree’s smile lit up his entire face. “But am glad I know now.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo took a bite eagerly. McCree laughed, delighted at the reaction. 

Twilight was descending. 

The two of them agreed that it was time to leave, despite not wanting to do so, and made their way down the hill. McCree insisted that they grab take out on their way back. 

“Could I convince you to come over? For a movie. Nothing else,” The cowboy added with haste. 

Hanzo tilted his head to consider the offer. “Yes.” 

McCree gave a small jump, and grabbed the other man’s hand, pulling him towards the nearest restaurant. 

They arrived in McCree’s apartment in Shinjuku, which was small, cluttered, but somehow clean. 

McCree linked his tablet to the small TV, and brought up a list while Hanzo unwrapped their food. “Got these from a friend. Will any of them do?”

“The same friend?”

“I have more than one friend!” McCree complained.

“Your friends have good taste. Any of these will do.” 

Jesse loaded up an action movie, and sat down beside Hanzo on the futon. Hanzo handed him his box of take out.

Hanzo twitched awake several hours later when Jesse tried to put the serape over his shoulders. 

“What—“ he muttered sleepily. 

McCree chuckled. “Running that diner must throw your schedule out of whack.” 

Hanzo frowned. He had never fallen asleep in the company of someone else before. 

“There is something about you that makes me drop my guard.” 

Hanzo didn’t even realize he had spoken these words out loud until he felt Jesse pause. 

He felt a hand under his chin, lifting his face upward. He allowed it. 

“I’m honoured you feel that way about me,” McCree murmured. He leaned in slow, eyes on Hanzo the entire time, ready to stop if given the signal. Hanzo allowed it again. 

Jesse closed the distance between them, pressing his soft lips against Hanzo’s. An alarm went off in Hanzo’s brain, told him to run, warned him of danger. Hanzo told it to shut the fuck up. 

A warm hand pressed against Hanzo’s back, drawing him upward from the futon. 

Hanzo moaned softly as Jesse moved to kiss his ears, down his neck, on his throat. He grasped at McCree, arms tightening around him. At the same time, the alarms grew louder, more insistent. This was too easy, the man was too close. Hanzo tensed, and Jesse must have felt it. Hanzo was surprised when it was McCree who drew some distance between them. 

They were both taking deep breaths, lips red, hair disheveled. Jesse smiled, and gently stroked the side of Hanzo’s face with his flesh hand. 

“I’d like to continue this. You’ve no idea how much. But I won’t rush you into something you’re not ready for.” 

Hanzo nodded reluctantly. 

“I’d still like it if you’d stay the night?” McCree asked, hesitant. 

“I would like that as well,” Hanzo answered instantly, alarms be damned. The grin that it earned him was worth it. McCree drew him back into an embrace, and they fell against the side of the futon. 

\--- 

Hanzo woke up to a soft buzzing sound. He was pressed against Jesse’s chest, arms wrapped around the other man’s waist. McCree’s arms were thrown around his shoulders, drawing him in close. 

Hanzo stretched, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. McCree furrowed his brow at the movement, and tried to pull the other man back into his arms. Hanzo chuckled, allowing him to do so once the phone was in his hand. 

He read the series of text messages, and sat up.

”Mm?” Jesse mumbled, confused. He blinked a few times. 

Hanzo stood. 

“Wha—What’s wrong?” McCree immediately looked more alert, worried.

“It’s Midori. She is in trouble. I have to go.” 

Hanzo was grabbing at his belongings with haste when he stopped, realizing how this must have looked. “It is not you,” he offered in reassurance. “I enjoyed last night, and would like to do it again.”

McCree looked relieved. He smiled. “Me too, sweetheart. But first, let’s go save our lil’ lady.”

He stood up as well, giving Hanzo’s hand a quick squeeze before heading to the washroom.

Hanzo frowned. “It is kind of you, but you barely know her.”

“I know she’s important to you. That’s all that matters. ‘sides, I gotta make sure you stay in one piece too.”

Hanzo snorted. “I can take care of myself.”

“Good,” McCree peeked back from the bathroom door, grinning. “Show me.”

\--- 

They stopped by the diner first, so that Hanzo could change and grab his Storm Bow. McCree raised his eyebrow and gave a whistle when the man opened the hard leather case to check on it. 

“That’s a fine lookin’ weapon.”

“Thank you.” 

“Hate to stereotype, but I woulda pegged you for a swordsman.”

Hanzo was testing the string to his bow for tautness. His hands stopped at the comment. 

“I gave up the sword some time ago.” 

“I’m sorry darlin’, I didn’t mean to upset you,” McCree put a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. The archer stiffened. 

“Why would I be upset?”

“I’m not sure, but I know ya well enough to know that you are.” 

The hand on his shoulder began to massage the knot of tense muscle that Hanzo always carried with him. He released the breath he did not know he was holding. 

“It is a story for another time.”

“Alright. Only if and when you’re comfortable.” 

Hanzo reflected on how Jesse just seemed to know when to step in and when to back off. He wasn’t sure anyone else in his life had been able to navigate his stormy, prickly moods like the cowboy. 

_Perhaps this would be alright._

He snapped the leather case shut, not having time to give this more thought. 

“Let’s go.”

\--- 

They arrived at Midori’s apartment to find the door ajar. Hanzo pushed it open with one motion. The apartment was a mess. Items were strewn across the floor, broken, likely thrown. Furniture was tipped, askew. 

Midori was sitting on a couch, hugging a large teddy bear. There was a gun beside her. 

“Midori,” Hanzo rushed to her side, putting a hand on her arm. 

She looked up at him and burst into tears. Hanzo wrapped her in a secure hug, speaking reassurances in Japanese. 

Jesse took a few steps back, not wanting to interrupt, He began to observe the scene for clues to what happened. 

“ _He came back,_ ” she started in Japanese, but repeated the words in English, blinking at McCree. “I’d told him it was over, but he said he wasn’t done with me yet.” 

She choked back another sob. 

“Who?” Hanzo demanded. 

“Kazuma.”

“Did he hurt you?” 

Midori blinked a few more times, and shook her head. She turned to look at the gun. “I scared him away.” She reached for the gun, her hand shaking. Hanzo grabbed her firmly before she could reach it. 

“You will not need that anymore,” he spoke with authority, but his voice was kind. “I will take care of it.”

Midori looked at him and shook her head again, more vehemently this time. “No! He’s dangerous! I can take care it myself.” 

“Dangerous?” 

Midori looked down. 

“He’s yakuza.”

Hanzo snorted. McCree also chuckled, drawing Hanzo’s attention, and a raised eyebrow. Jesse just shrugged. 

“Compared to the things I’ve seen, that’s nothin’, lil’ lady. I fight omnics, remember?” his smile was warm. 

Hanzo nodded. “Tell us where to find him.”

\--- 

They arrived at an older building in the district hours later, after Hanzo conducted some research. 

“Do not kill anyone. That will just draw their ire,” Hanzo had his bow ready in as they walked up the stairs. 

“Thought didn’t even cross my mind,” Jesse drawled. 

“Kazuma is just a lowly member. His group will not stand behind him on a dispute as frivolous as this.”

“So we just need to convince him?” 

“From what Midori tells me, that will not be difficult,” Hanzo flashed McCree a smirk. Jesse beamed back. There was something exhilarating about working together, and both of them felt it. 

They arrived at the door they sought. Hanzo nodded, and kicked it open. 

The room was heavy with smoke, and lined with dozens of mah jong tables. 

Several guns were aimed at them the moment the door opened. 

“ _I have no interest in what you are doing here_ ,” Hanzo barked, his voice deep and forceful. Something in him flinched at it. It was a tone he had reserved for commanding his men, and he had hoped never to use it again. “ _I am looking for Kazuma_.”

A tall, slim man in a black suit stood abruptly. His eyes hooded with arrogance, he sauntered up to the two men. 

“Who’s askin’?” Kazuma blew a puff of smoke from his cigarette directly into Hanzo’s face. Hearing Jesse take a step forward, Hanzo reached a hand back and placed it on the cowboy’s chest. 

“A friend of Midori’s,” Hanzo answered. “Shall we walk?” 

Kazuma looked both of them up and down for a moment, unimpressed. He nodded, snuffing his cigarette in a tray before brushing past them towards the door. 

“Arrogant lil’ fuck,” Jesse growled quietly in Hanzo’s ear as they followed. 

“Hn. The young ones often are,” Hanzo replied.

They stood in the alley beside the building. 

Kazuma leaned against the wall, looking disinterested. 

“Well?” 

“Midori does not want to see you again. You will leave her alone,” Hanzo said simply. 

Kazuma snorted. “So she sent her father and his gay boyfriend to take care of it?”

In a blink of an eye, Hanzo’s arm was pressed against his neck. Kazuma did not look cowed. 

“I don’t think you know who I am, old man.” 

“I know exactly who you are, you lowly piece of shit,” Hanzo growled. 

The other man smirked. “Careful. My ‘family’ has many friends in this neighbourhood.” 

“Your ‘family’ won’t give a fuck about you gettin’ tossed around a bit because you can’t treat a woman right,” McCree chimed in. 

Hanzo lowered his arm and took a few steps back. 

“This is your only warning.”

“Yeah? Well, you’ll only get to give one,” with a melodramatic flourish, Kazuma took out a gun and aimed it at Hanzo’s head. McCree drew his own pistol in a flash. 

Hanzo sighed. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. He put his hands up. 

“I’m going to take off my jacket, because I like it very much, and it would seem that you are about to do something foolish.” 

Kazuma’s eyes narrowed, confused. “Alright.”

Hanzo put his bow down slowly, and took his jacket off with the same care. 

Kazuma noticeably gulped when the storm dragon tattoo came into view. His gun began to shake. 

Hanzo rolled his eyes. In another blink, he had knocked the gun from the other man’s hand with a roundhouse kick. His second kick went for Kazuma’s stomach. The man fell over, back against the wall. He looked up fearfully.

Hanzo switched to Japanese. 

“ _You know who I am—don’t say it_ ,” Hanzo interrupted the man as he was about to reply. “ _You know who I am, so you know what I can do. I will only need to say this once. Leave. Her. Alone._ ”

McCree was watching the entire scene with interest, gun still drawn.

“Am I clear?” He asked in English. 

Kazuma nodded vigorously, and began to babble quickly in Japanese. 

“ _I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t know, I’ll leave her alone Shi—_ “ He yelped as Hanzo bent down to slam his hand next to his head. 

“ _I said, don’t. Say it.”_ Hanzo repeated, voice calm, yet still dripping with menace. Kazuma nodded again, and did not reply. 

Hanzo stood and gathered his belongings. Jesse was looking at him, partly with confusion, amusement—with affection? No, it was something more…intense. Something—a shiver went down Hanzo’s spine. He tried to brush it off.

“I think we are done here,” Hanzo said smoothly. Jesse grabbed the Storm Bow before Hanzo could reach it, and handed it to the archer with exaggerated respect and a wolfish grin. Hanzo smirked in response, and they returned to Midori’s to give her the good news. 

\---

The girl was ecstatic that they had returned without a scratch. She listened with eager attention as Jesse recollected the exchange, embellishing the details of Hanzo’s exchange with Kazuma. 

“I did not at any point aim an arrow at his throat,” the archer eventually interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“You’re right, y’didn’t have to!” McCree laughed. “The boy was ready to piss his pants just from your words alone.”

Hanzo snorted. 

“Thank you for your help,” Midori’s energy waned all of a sudden. She looked guilty. 

“Midori,” Hanzo took her by both shoulders. “What did I tell you about dating?”

Midori looked up, smiling playing on her lips again. “You told me not to date dipshit losers.”

“And was Kazuma a dipshit loser?”

She giggled. “Yes.” 

“Never again,” he cautioned, ruffling her hair. She squealed, energy regained, and launched herself at Hanzo’s chest for a hug. McCree laughed at the archer’s distressed expression. 

\--- 

Midori chased them out soon afterwards, babbling something about getting in the way of their date. 

The odd events of the afternoon sank in once they were alone. 

“Thank you for your help today.” It seemed like an absurd understatement.

“My pleasure. You’re right, you didn’t even need me at all.”

“It was good to have you there regardless,” Hanzo looked straight ahead, but his fingers searched the space between them until they found Jesse’s. McCree grinned, pressing closer to Hanzo’s side. 

“Midori is a firecracker, huh? She’s quite fond of you.” 

“And I of her. She reminds me of someone I once knew,” Hanzo smiled. His smile faded just as quickly. “Someone I once failed.” 

Taking care of Midori and facing the yakuza, even if it was not his own family: these were echoes of those memories that Hanzo had fought so hard to escape. 

Hearing the shift in tone, Jesse squeezed Hanzo’s hand firmly. “We’ve all made mistakes.”

“No. Not like this,” Hanzo tried half-heartedly to wring his hand from Jesse’s grasp. McCree held on more tightly. 

“You’d be surprised,” Jesse replied, voice soft. He stopped walking. He reached his other hand to Hanzo’s shoulder, pausing for permission before gathering him in an embrace. “Ain’t no one beyond forgiveness, sweet pea. I should know.” 

Hanzo did not answer, but took a long breath. McCree paused again, feeling the inhale against his body, and began to rub the other man’s back. The archer was struck by how the touch made the lump in his throat dissipate. Nothing had ever been able to shake him from his regrets of the past quite so quickly and assuredly. He looked up to find the Jesse looking at him fondly. 

“Shall we get ya home?” 

Hanzo nodded, taking his hand again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan. Emotional roller coaster ensues.  
> "Dragons" animated short happens somewhere in this chapter (although it is not described). Hanzo does not handle this well. McCree tries to help.  
> Truth is revealed. Hanzo does not handle this well. McCree tries to help again.  
> Things go well. So much comfort. Some sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I broke the two chapters in an odd place: this one packs a *much* heavier emotional punch than the previous.  
> Depictions of panic attacks and a lot more emotional hurt here, so please take care when reading.  
> Rating has been upped for explicit content.
> 
> I'm been having a bad week, and may have over-written the comforting scenes as a result (they made me feel better too).
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope that you will enjoy the conclusion. <3

They fell into a comfortable routine. Jesse would visit during the week. They would spend Saturdays together, and Hanzo would stay over that evening. If Jesse ever had to be away for more than a few days for work, he would warn Hanzo first, and Hanzo would count the days to his return. It felt domestic.

Hanzo knew it was getting bad when his regulars became bolder.

The trio of office ladies offered to help him with make-up, insisting that eyeliner would really make his eyes pop. The middle-aged porn star said he could recommend several videos made by his colleagues that featured men, if Hanzo was looking for some new ideas. The owner of the gay bar down the street sighed about young love, and shot Hanzo a reassuring smile every time McCree came in. 

“ _So how’s the sex?_ ” Midori asked one day, casually.

There was a loud crash from the kitchen as Hanzo accidentally knocked over a stack of dishes. He peered into the dining room to shoot her a glare. 

She considered his reaction for a moment, and then scowled. “ _What. You mean you haven’t had sex? How many months has it been now?_ ”

“ _That’s none of your business._ ” Hanzo snapped, returning with food for his other customers. 

The sliding door opened.

“ _Ooh, I’ll just talk to him about it myself_ ,” Midori squealed as Jesse entered. Hanzo had all but chased her out of the diner. 

It wasn’t that Hanzo did not think about it himself: he was just unsure what to think. It was unexpected, new, unfamiliar.

He was also preoccupied, as of late, as an anniversary drew ever near. 

“I have to close the diner for a few days,” he tried to keep his voice calm. “There is something I must do.” 

McCree’s hand had been stroking at Hanzo’s hair. The archer was lying in the other man’s lap curled on the futon, hair down, serape wrapped around his shoulders. Jesse’s hand stopped at the words. 

“Where are ya going?”

“Back to Hanamura,” Hanzo shifted a bit.

There was a long pause. Hanzo could hear Jesse’s breath, even, but shortened. The gunslinger was troubled by something. 

“I’ll come with ya,” Jesse began to run his hand through Hanzo’s hair again. “You can show me the sights.”

Hanzo shook his head regretfully. “I would like that. Someday. But this errand I must do alone.” 

“You don’t have to be alone anymore, Hanzo,” Jesse said softly. He rested his hand on Hanzo’s arm. 

“I know,” Hanzo turned so that he was looking up at the other man. He gave a small, uncertain smile. “I am not. But this visit is penance that I alone owe.”

Jesse nodded reluctantly. “Alright, darlin’. You know how to find me when you get back.”

Hanzo sat up. Jesse tilted his head inquisitively. 

“I have been…alone for a very long time, Jesse,” Hanzo admitted. “I did not realize how might it weighed on me, until I met you.” 

McCree’s face lit up with pure joy. “Sweetheart,” he murmured. He pressed forehead against Hanzo’s. 

Hanzo hesitated again. He lifted his chin to capture Jesse’s lips in a soft kiss. The other man returned it, gentle. There was a burning in Hanzo’s chest, a longing that he had pushed away for months. It threatened to consume him now, the heat of it fueled by Jesse’s warmth and concern. 

Hanzo wondered for a moment about what would happen were he to give into the impulse. He had let Jesse closer than anyone before. What if…the wave of desire and fear crashed down on him simultaneously. He made an involuntary sound, and Jesse pulled away, peering at him kindly. 

“I’m sorry, I—“

“None of that now,” Jesse drew him into his arms and kissed him on the head. “Just promise me you’ll come back in one piece.”

Hanzo nodded, relaxing in his cowboy’s arms. 

\---

Despite having the supernatural ability to summon spirit dragons, Hanzo had never believed in ghosts. That is, until he had come face to face with one. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to make it back to Shinjuku, or how he must have looked to the swarms of people he pushed past to reach the diner. He dropped the keys twice before being able to open the door, and after slamming it shut, collapsed against the counter.

Even the familiar room offered no solace. Although he knew very well where he was, the space somehow felt different: alien and strange. Every nerve on his skin screamed out danger, called for him to run, but he could not. He heard a loud rap at the door, and a voice calling his name with urgency. 

“Hanzo!”

“ _I know who you are, Hanzo._ ” 

That metallic voice. That barely human metallic voice that now belonged to his brother. It was his fault.

“Hanzo! Darlin’! Open up!” 

No, this voice belonged to someone else. This voice sounded anxious. 

“Sweetheart, please, open the door!” The pounding continued. 

Hanzo was struck by how absurd this was. The door was made of flimsy plastic and wood, and shuddered with a light breeze. It was more symbolic than anything else. He wasn’t even entirely sure it was locked. McCree must have realized this at the same moment, as he threw it open in one motion. 

He looked around frantically once he entered, eyes settling finally on the archer’s form on the floor. 

“Oh darlin’,” he murmured, voice hitching. Jesse slid the door shut, and he fell to Hanzo’s side, gathering him up in his arms. Hanzo only realized he was shaking when pressed beside Jesse’s solid body.

“Hanzo. Focus, sweetheart. Breathe with me,” McCree held Hanzo’s head to his chest, and took deep breaths. Hanzo felt the lull of the repeated motion, as his own body rose and fell with each one. Eyes shut, he forced his own gasps to match. 

“There you go,” Jesse sounded relieved. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” McCree murmured into his hair. 

They sat there for what seemed like hours.

 _Dead. Alive. Barely human._

A voice inside Hanzo’s head repeated the accusations.

“Calm down, sweetheart, you’re safe here,” A different, more insistent voice kept cutting in. It eventually began to win.

A few moments more, and Hanzo could feel himself being lifted. He tightened his grip around Jesse’s neck, and burrowed his face into the cowboy’s chest. He could feel McCree gasp slightly, and soften. “That’s right, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” The voice was wavering. 

He was brought upstairs, and put gently on his bed. McCree took off their shoes, undid Hanzo’s hair, and and pressed up next to Hanzo, wrapping his arms around the other man, and pulling the archer’s face to his own chest. 

Hanzo took another long shaking breath. 

“He’s alive,” he voice hitched. He wasn’t even sure why he was saying this, as McCree wouldn’t understand, but he couldn’t stop the words. “He’s alive but—“ 

“Shh…not right now,” McCree soothed, hand rubbing Hanzo’s back. “They’ll be time enough to worry about that later. Just focus on this now. On me.” 

Hanzo felt the last of his strength and will escape him. He nodded, and pressed in closer, eyes closing. 

He heard Jesse’s voice just once more before falling asleep, less soothing, and instead crackling with a soft anger.

“I’m gonna kill that lil’ shit.”

\--- 

Hanzo woke to the rain pattering incessantly on the roof. He was surrounded by a heavy warmth, and something in him pulled him to press towards it. McCree hummed happily as Hanzo nuzzled in closer. Hanzo wished he could make this last, wished he could push away that final, lingering suspicion.

“Jesse.”

“Mm? Darlin’? How you feelin’?”

“Jesse. Who is ‘that little shit’? The one that you are going to kill?”

McCree stiffened. His embrace grew tighter, bracing for what he knew would come. 

“Darli—“ 

Hanzo shoved him away, hard, and sat up. 

“How did you know I had returned? That I would need you?” 

Hanzo ignored the fact that he had just admitted to needing Jesse. Each question looked like it shot straight through Jesse’s heart.

“Hanzo…I’m…” McCree sat up, panic settling in his features. 

“You knew. You *knew*.” Hanzo was choking on anger and betrayal, and wasn’t even able to finish the thought. 

“Hanzo please, listen to me,” There was something desperate in McCree’s eyes. He reached for Hanzo’s hand, but the other man snatched it out of reach as though he was going to burn him with his touch. He pushed Jesse off of the bed, and stood to loom over him. 

“You knew what I liked. You knew where to take me, how to break me down. You knew when to push and when to back away. He told you.”

“No! Well, some of it maybe, but no!” Jesse reached out again, only to have his hand slapped away. His expression showed that it stung in more ways than one. “I don’t wanna lie to you anymore, but please listen, darlin’. At first, I was sent to observe you, to find out if you were a threat.”

“To what? To whatever organization sent you? To the world? Or do you mean to my brother?” Hanzo snarled. The look on Jesse’s face gave him his answer.

“Please—“

“Of course, it all makes sense now,” Hanzo laughed, but it was hollow. “How could I have been so foolish? How could I have thought cared for me?”

“I do care for you! I love you!” McCree stood, reaching forward, but Hanzo shoved him away. Jesse flinched, once again, not because it had hurt physically. 

“I knew from the first day that you were no threat, but I couldn’t stop myself from coming back.” He reached more slowly for Hanzo’s hand, looking to the man for permission, but stopped. Hanzo was backed against the wall, body tense like a cornered animal. Jesse took a sharp breath, and continued with his words only instead. “This mission was done months ago. I kept coming back for you, not Overwatch, not Genji. For you.”

“Do not bring my brother’s name into my shop!” 

“I shoulda told you earlier. I fucked up, but I didn’t want it to end,” Jesse pleaded. 

“What? End?”

“This. Us.” Jesse’s voice cracked.

“There *is* no us,” Perhaps if Hanzo said it more emphatically, he could convince himself of the words. “Get out.”

“Hanzo—“

Hanzo grabbed his Storm Bow from the floor beside him, and loaded an arrow.

“GET. OUT!”

Jesse refused. 

“Han—“ The arrow sliced through the air with a sharp sound, and embedded itself in the door frame, inches from McCree’s head. The pain etched on Jesse’s face made Hanzo’s chest burn. He could not breath, but he could not yield. Jesse nodded, and left in defeat. 

Hanzo slumped against the side of the bed, breath erratic, whole body shaking. 

Outside, the heavy rain pattered on the awning, on the ground, on the form of the retreating gunslinger.

_Alone again._

A few hours later, when he was finally able to stand, Hanzo gathered everything that he thought worth taking, and locked the door to the Midnight Diner for the last time. 

\--- 

He should have left immediately. He should have fled Shinjuku before drinking, not after. If he were honest with himself, however, he wouldn’t have made it very far. While he had calmed himself enough to leave, the trembling began again immediately after he left the diner, and there would be no one to soothe it this time. It plagued him until he finally reached the small apartment he kept in case of an emergency. He grasped desperately for the whisky (also kept in case of an emergency), not even bothering with a glass, and tried to drown the heartbreak with the amber liquid.

It was where McCree found him close to a week later. 

There was a familiar, urgent pounding. They had been here before. The door was, once again, barely even just for show, and not even locked. McCree appeared at the entrance of his room moments later, once again looking panicked. The frantic eyes settled on Hanzo’s slumped form, and found relief.

“You’re still here,” McCree sounded out of breath. He collapsed at Hanzo’s feet, grasping at his hands to make sure they were real. Hanzo was too confused by his sudden appearance to care, the liquor weighing too heavily on him.

“Why?” Hanzo mumbled. 

“What’s that darlin’?” Jesse was still whispering, as if he spoke to loudly, the other man would disappear like a dream dispelled.

“Why am I still here?”

“Don’t know the answer to that,” Jesse reached up to caress Hanzo’s face, and his face fell slightly as the other man dodged it. He remained undeterred. “Can’t say I’m complainin’ though.”

“How did you find me?”

“Midori. She said you brought her here once.”

Yes, that unfortunately sounded familiar…

“She found me in front of the diner, a right mess. Smacked me somethin’ good, actually,” McCree chuckled, but it sounded tired. “Threatened to scratch my eyes out for hurtin’ you.”

“…she did that? For me?”

“Kid cares about you a lot. She’s close by, waitin’,” McCree swallowed hard. “In case this doesn’t work out. She’ll take care of you if I can’t.”

“You can’t.” Hanzo winced as he tried to sit up, head throbbing. “Leave.”

Jesse put a hand on his chest to keep him in place.

“Not with you like this,” he reached up for Hanzo’s cheek again, and this time, the other man was too tired to stop him. 

“This is your fault.” 

“I know, darlin’. I know,” McCree’s voice was barely audible. 

“You lied.”

“...I did.”

“I let you in, and you lied.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If there were some way—“ 

“I let myself love you, and you lied.”

Jesse’s breath hitched, his eyes widened at the confession. His fingers brushed a stray hair behind Hanzo’s ear, and he drew away. 

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed all of a sudden, and he grabbed at the hand before it could fully retract. McCree met his gaze, startled. 

“You lied,” Hanzo repeated, more slowly. He was grasping the other man’s hand hard, painfully so. He pulled it forward towards his chest, and the rest of Jesse’s body followed. “And yet, I cannot stop loving you.”

They were so close, Hanzo could feel Jesse’s shallow breaths on his face. The cowboy’s eyes were overfilled, simultaneously full of hope and fear, uncertain about what Hanzo meant to do. 

“Then let me love you back,” Jesse whispered, voice wavering again, pressing forward so that their foreheads touched. “Let me redeem myself by taking care of you.”

The pounding in Hanzo’s head was all-consuming. Everything hurt so much that his vision began to blur. Hanzo realized belatedly it was tears he was blinking back.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jesse murmured. He gently brushed at the archer’s face to smooth the tears away. 

Hanzo fell against Jesse’s chest, and felt the other man’s arms draw him in tightly before losing consciousness. 

\--- 

Hanzo woke up in his bed, still tucked safely in Jesse’s arms. He tried to sit up, but the throbbing in his head returned, causing him to fall down, limp. Sensing Hanzo’s attempted escape, McCree twitched awake, and clutched at him with more determination. 

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, nuzzling into Hanzo’s hair. The archer melted at the gesture, partially because he had no choice, muscles relaxing into the embrace despite himself. Jesse hummed, pleased with this reaction. 

Hanzo gave a soft moan, pressing his forehead into Jesse’s chest to try to dull the pain. 

McCree chuckled. “Think you can manage a shower? Always helps me.”

“If I stand, I might die.”

This drew an all-out laugh from Jesse. “I’ll draw you a bath, but you gotta promise not to run away.”

Hanzo groaned into the gunslinger’s chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Jesse untangled himself, fixing the blanket so that it was securely wrapped around Hanzo. He rummaged through Hanzo’s closet for a bath robe, and took it with him before going to the next room. Hanzo heard the sound of running water.

His body mourned the sudden lack of warmth, and he burrowed deeper into the blanket to compensate. A nagging voice in his head tried to remind him that he was supposed to be angry. The throbbing in his head told that voice to shut up. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, and the room became hazy. 

McCree returned moments later, laughter ringing out again seeing Hanzo wrapped firmly in the blanket like a burrito. 

“Alright, water’s started. How’d ya wanna do this, darlin’?” 

Hanzo just glared at him. Jesse shrugged, and walked purposefully towards him, throwing the blanket aside. The archer gave an undignified squawk, as moments later, he was gathered up in the gunslinger’s arms and brought to the washroom doorway. The sudden change in height brought another bout of vertigo, rendering Hanzo unable to fight back.

Jesse slowly lowered his feet first when they reached the washroom, close to the sink so that Hanzo could use it to hold himself up. Hanzo ground his teeth a bit in humiliation.

“Can you handle it from here?” McCree’s voice held no judgement. Instead, it was full of fondness.

Hanzo gave a swift nod. 

“Alright, I’ll make some tea. Give me a call if ya need me.” 

McCree turned off the tap to the tub. Hanzo could hear the door slide close behind him. 

He made his way to the toilet, then undressed. Each limb felt like it was weighed twice as much, and every muscle ached with each movement. Clenching his jaw again, he lowered himself into the hot bath and breathed an audible sigh of relief as the heat enveloped him. 

He closed his eyes, focusing on the soft sounds of the water against the side of the tub. Outside, he could hear a muffled conversation. 

“He’s fine, no thanks to you,” McCree was growling, presumably into a phone. The voice dropped in volume. Hanzo strained to hear. 

“You promised. No, fuck you, you promised!” 

Hanzo found McCree’s anger on his behalf somewhat soothing. 

“No, fuck off. The last time you tried to talk, I nearly lost him. Don’t call. I’ll call you.”

There was a pause. 

“You’re welcome,” Jesse answered, sighing.

That his brother had thanked McCree hit Hanzo harder than he thought it would. 

He tried to calm himself again by meditating, but was interrupted by sounds coming from the kitchen, then the door opening, and a soft and tense conversation. Some part of his old instinct kicked in, and wondered at the visitor. The stronger voice in his head assured that Jesse would take care of it, would take care of him. Given how he couldn’t open his eyes without flinching at the pain behind them, Hanzo willingly gave into this comfort, caution be damned. Something about the gunslinger’s reappearance, and his constant, unwavering care had dulled his anger. If he were to be honest, the pain probably helped.

After some time, there was a soft knock. 

“Darlin’? Y’alright?” Hanzo didn’t miss the anxiety worrying the edges of that voice. 

“Hn.”

McCree sighed again, relieved that he had not somehow disappeared. “I’m making tea. D’ya need help?” 

“No.” 

Hanzo tried to push himself up too quickly, and nearly made it before his legs gave out beneath him. 

Jesse tried to stifle his laughter at the sound of splashing, but failed. 

“Can ya reach the towel at least? Grab that and I’ll come in to help.”

Hanzo grumbled as he tried to process the actions required to do as McCree had asked. He managed to grab the towel that McCree had placed on the side of the tub, and leaned forward so that he was on his knees. Bracing himself for a moment, he pushed himself upwards with great effort, and wrapped the towel around his torso. 

“Fine.” 

McCree slid the door open slowly and peered around it, greeting Hanzo with a brilliant smile. He offered his arm and shoulder so that Hanzo could clear the tub without falling. Leaning Hanzo against the wall, McCree grabbed the robe he had found earlier, and helped Hanzo into it, looking away as the other man dropped the towel. He helped him back to the bed, and went to fetch a smaller towel for his hair. He wrapped it around the archer’s hair, and began to dry it, massaging his scalp while doing so. Hanzo was unable to stop the pleased hum it caused. Jesse’s smile widened. He tucked the archer back under the covers, retreating for the kitchen. Hanzo collapsed back onto the pillow and into the blanket, the warmth of the bath still radiating off his skin. 

McCree returned moments later with a tray containing a teapot and a small pink cake topped with a perfect red strawberry.

Hanzo huffed, turning to lie flat on his back. He eyed the cake. 

“Midori stopped by,” McCree explained. “I told her I’d call her when you were ready to see guests. She left you these.”

He put the tray on the floor, and handed Hanzo a heart-shaped note with baby-blue Japanese script on the front. Hanzo unfolded it. 

_Idiot: You’d better be alive and reading this like the cowboy promised._  
_If you love him, listen to what he has to say._  
_If you don’t, call me. We’ll kick his ass together._  


(hearts)  
Midori

Hanzo laughed. It also hurt. He winced. 

Jesse ran a hand through the archer’s hair in concern. 

“You got any medicine for that headache?”

“No,” Hanzo closed his eyes, bracing himself, then pushed himself so that he was partially sitting up. He was having trouble with long sentences. “Tea.”

“It’s not done steeping yet.”

Hanzo turned his head to look at him, and furrowed his brow. 

“You normally steep your tea for exactly 4 minutes.” 

“You noticed.”

“I said I’d take care of you. How am I gonna do that if I can’t remember little things like this?” McCree smiled, eyes full of affection. 

Hanzo closed his eyes against it, but it was too late. A smile was tugging at the corner of his lips. Jesse must have seen it, as a moment later, Hanzo felt the gunslinger’s hands wrap around his own. A minute after that, one of those hands disappeared to pour the tea.

Hanzo grasped the mug he was given with both hands, inhaling the crisp smell of the Sencha before taking a small sip. 

He sighed, closing his eyes again.

“Midori suggests that I listen to what you have to say.”

He could hear McCree shuffle a bit. Hands once again covered his own. 

“Where do I start?” he hesitated. “I belong to an organization called Overwatch. Nothing fancy, just your average vigilante superhero force, tryin’ to save the world.”

Hanzo snorted. 

“We’d been monitoring the movements of the Shimada Clan ever since your brother joined us,” McCree paused, trying to make sure he hadn’t say anything wrong.

“Continue,” Hanzo replied, eyes still closed. 

“We saw what you were doing, takin’ them down. Genji saw it first, and knew it must have meant you realized you’d been had by the clan elders,” The hands gave a small squeeze. “He knew you were trying to make amends.”

“When you stopped, we assumed that you must have dismantled their operations to your satisfaction. Some on our team were unsure of your intentions. Genji wanted to make sure you were okay. I volunteered to find out.”

“Why?”

“Because I know a lil’ something about wanting redemption. And I know a good man when I see one, even if just on paper, through trackin’ your actions. Genji saw this too. I decided to try to help him prove it.”

“Genji wanted to do it himself. I had a hell of a time convincing him that seein’ your brother back from the dead would cause any man to go on the defensive. He promised me he wouldn’t engage you until I allowed him to. He didn’t tell me he’d be at Hanamura,” McCree’s voice turned rough. “Lil’ shit.”

Hanzo laughed weakly, grimacing at the pain it caused. McCree’s thumb ran along the side of Hanzo’s hand, soothingly.

“He admits he came on a bit too strong.” 

“He always was melodramatic. A result of the brain-rotting anime he watched in his youth."

“Explains a lot,” McCree snorted. 

“When I first saw the diner, I saw what it was. Shelter from the outside world, from loneliness, judgement. Something you never had. I saw you, and I realized that I needed...” Jesse faltered a bit here.

“Shelter?”

“That,” Jesse agreed. “And you.”

Hanzo opened his eyes to find McCree staring intently into them. 

“What do you want from me?” Hanzo asked, warily. 

“Everything,” Jesse’s voice was husky, breaking at the edges. His eyes darkened, and he drew closer, taking the tea from Hanzo and putting it on the table. “All of you.”

Hanzo swallowed hard.

Just as quickly, the storm of emotion passed. McCree did not draw back, however, and instead ran his fingers gently down the side of Hanzo’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I was smitten the first day we met, darlin’, and I knew that the truth would push you away, so I waited, and waited. And waited too long.”  
He pressed a bit closer, leaving a gap still between them. 

“Forgive me.”

Hanzo took a deep breath, a warmth blooming all over him. While the pain in his head was not subsiding, the pain in his chest, miraculously, was. It was only Jesse who had ever had this effect on him, and now, despite everything, Hanzo realized he did not want to let this go, nor could he.

He nodded his head, ever so slightly. 

He heard McCree’s breath hitch at the movement, and looked up to find the cowboy’s face full of hope. Hanzo closed the distance between them until their lips met.  
Jesse took a long, shaky breath against Hanzo’s lips, as he moved in for a second kiss. He lifted his hands to both sides of the archer’s face, as if worried he would change his mind and draw back. Hanzo pressed forward in reassurance, his own hands sifting through the cowboy’s hair. 

The pain in his heart gave away to that familiar burning, longing that he had been trying to push down for months. This time, he let it overtake him. 

Hanzo tore into the kiss with a new passion, finding hold of Jesse’s tongue and running his own along the length of it almost desperately. Jesse made a surprised sound, but encouraged it, softening his lips to give the other man more room. Hanzo began to tug urgently at Jesse’s shirt. McCree stopped him, albeit gently, and pulled back. 

“Sweetheart,” he was out of breath. “Keep goin’, I’m not sure I can stop myself.”

Hanzo’s lips quirked in amusement, as he reached up to put his hand behind Jesse’s neck. “Then don’t.” 

He pulled Jesse towards him, distracting McCree’s lips so that he could tear at the shirt buttons. Jesse fumbled to help him, shifting so that he was straddling Hanzo’s reclining figure. Hanzo worked on the ridiculous belt next, before losing his robe. 

He hissed in approval when Jesse began to grind down on him, feeling the other man’s hardness through the blanket.

“Um…”

Hanzo opened his eyes again to find Jesse blushing. 

“How...what would you like…”

Hanzo frowned. “You said you would take care of me. I would like to be taken care of.”

This just made Jesse flush even further. Hanzo smirked at the reaction. He pulled the other man close to whisper into his ear. “Am I not clear? I would like you to fuck me.”

Jesse gave what could only be called a whimper, to Hanzo’s satisfaction, before casting the blanket aside and renewing his attention to Hanzo’s body. He braced his arms on the bed, running his fingers over Hanzo’s arched back while leaving long, wet kisses down his chest. Hanzo gasped at the touch, pushing upward into it, the pain and dizziness giving way to desire and need. 

Jesse worked his way down, and put his hands on either side of Hanzo’s hips. He looked up with a grin, licking his lips. This time, it was Hanzo who whimpered, as the gunslinger swiped his tongue along the archer’s long, hard cock. Hanzo grasped at the sheets as Jesse teased the tip, the underside, ran butterfly kisses along its length. 

“Jesse,” he gasped, as McCree took the entire length of it in his mouth, down his throat, and began to suck at it with enthusiasm. Hanzo could feel the gunslinger’s lips curl in a smile around him. A few more long, teasing strokes of Jesse’s tongue, and Hanzo could feel a familiar tension gather in his torso.

“Jesse…” As always, his gunslinger read the signs that he was giving perfectly. Jesse gave one final lick, before scrambling to look for his pants. 

“Presumptuous,” Hanzo observed wryly as McCree took out a condom and a small bottle of lube from a pocket. 

“Always prepared,” Jesse corrected, fumbling with the condom wrapper. Hanzo sighed and took it from him, opening it with a clean tear. Jesse approached him, happily nipping at his ear. Hanzo caressed the gunslinger’s hard cock, causing him to gasp. He rolled the condom on in one smooth motion. Jesse bit back a moan, and pushed himself back to catch Hanzo’s lips in another messy kiss, both hands grasping at the other man’s chest. He then took the lube, covering his fingers with the liquid.  
“Wanted this for so long,” he murmured. “Wanted you for so long.” 

Despite feeling feverish already, Hanzo could feel his cheeks burn even more at the words. Jesse’s kisses drifted down Hanzo’s neck. Each kiss pressed down with more pressure, always moving, testing for the best spot. He found it at the base of Hanzo’s neck, where it met the shoulder. Hanzo indicated this with an involuntary cry, arching into the other man, trying to push himself closer. Jesse sucked at it again, biting gently while reaching down to work his fingers into his lover. 

He nuzzled at the side of Hanzo’s neck, stroked his chest with his warmed metal hand. Hanzo could feel the fingers stroking inside him, stretching, searching slow and deliberate. They graze over spots that caused the archer’s voice to catch, that drew soft, pleading moans. 

“That’s right darlin’, just relax,” Jesse murmured into his skin, adding a third finger. “Let me take care of you like I said I would.”

Hanzo thrust into McCree’s fingers, trying to take them in deeper. Jesse pulled his hand away, to Hanzo’s disappointment, reaching for the lube again. He coated his fingers, slicking himself up. Pressing himself against Hanzo, between his legs, Jesse gave the archer a quick kiss, looking to him for permission. Hanzo nodded, and Jesse started to push in slowly. 

Hanzo gasped at it, causing McCree to pause, eyes filling with concern. 

“Continue,” he breathed, hands pulling at McCree’s hips in encouragement. 

Jesse leaned in to kiss him again, on the lips, on his neck, returning to the spots that drew those soft, unintended sounds. He pressed in a bit more at each moan, gentle, with care. Hanzo arched up urgently to meet him. It still wasn’t enough.

“More,” Hanzo gasped, the word not even fully formed, as Jesse thrust deeper, harder inside him. 

“So good, to feel you wrapped around me,” McCree’s voice was raspy, as he drew back to drive into his lover yet again. “So beautiful like this.” 

The initial pain Hanzo felt began to give way to a growing warmth, coiling in his abdomen. He closed his eyes, feeling Jesse’s heat wrap around, inside him.  
“Hanzo.” 

Hanzo’s eyes flew open. 

“I can’t…” Jesse’s voice was cracking again, his breath erratic. 

Hanzo was the one who read the sign this time. Putting both hands on Jesse’s taut back, he gave a firm pull, thrusting upwards at the same time. McCree groaned, gritting his teeth. Hanzo leaned up. 

“I told you to fuck me.”

That was all it took. 

Jesse gave a snarl, swooping in to suck at a spot right behind Hanzo’s ear, pushing hard into his body until he was impossibly deep. Hanzo cried out, grasping at the other man’s shoulders. Jesse pulled back, only to slam into Hanzo again, maneuvering the archer’s legs for a better angle. 

Hanzo felt himself melt against the onslaught, against the persistent pounding, until suddenly, Jesse found that one spot, and every nerve and muscle in Hanzo’s body caught fire.

“Jesse!” his back arched clean off the bed as he screamed. Jesse’s surprise only lasted for a moment, before his features settled in triumph. He thrusted, unrelenting in his pace, while Hanzo writhed, grasped at his back, at the bedsheets, at anything ground himself again. 

“There. Just like that, sweetheart, fuck, Hanzo, you’re so perfect,” McCree growled. 

Hanzo’s head tilted to the side, and he was just barely aware of the words cutting through the mounting heat twisting inside him.

“Jess…I’m going—“ 

“Let go. I’ve got you, let—“

Hanzo gave a broken cry, the climax rushing through his body, caressing every last part. He arched up into McCree’s touch, body taut as the waves of pleasure rolled through him, and he came all over his abdomen. Jesse followed soon after, thrusts punctuated by a long groan. Hanzo could feel a satisfying warmth fill him from inside. 

Jesse pulled out slowly and collapsed beside him on the bed, burrowing his face in the archer’s chest. Hanzo turned on his side, then made a face, remembering the mess that lay between them. Jesse chuckled, and stumbled to the washroom, limbs heavy, returning with damp towels, and having disposed of the condom. He carefully cleaned Hanzo, who was feeling too weak to help. He then returned to bed, wrapping his arms around Hanzo with a contented sigh. 

“That’s one way to cure a hangover,” the archer remarked wryly, pressing his cheek to McCree’s chest. The gunslinger laughed, and kissed him gently on the head. 

“I could get used to hearin’ you sayin’ my name like that.”

Hanzo snorted, blushing at the words. 

“Give me reason to and I will, _Jesse_.” He retorted, intentionally dropping his voice when he reached McCree’s name. He could feel the other man shiver at the sound, and smiled smugly.

They laid silent for a while longer, until McCree shifted, putting some distance between them so he could look at the archer, brow furrowed. Hanzo looked up at him, waiting.

“Thank you.” 

The archer raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“For takin’ another chance on me. I promise I won’t waste it.”

“Hn. I believe you took a chance on me first,” Hanzo frowned. “It takes a certain type of idiot to fall for a man who tried to kill his friend.” 

He tried to sound dismissive, but must have made some indication of his distress, as Jesse shifted again so that he could wrap both arms around him. 

“He doesn’t blame you for it. Neither do I, and neither should you,” Jesse laughed. “Hell, you shoulda seen his reaction when I asked for his help in courtin’ you. He was so excited I had to have a friend keep tabs on him to make sure he wouldn’t be tailin’ us.”

“What did he tell you?” Hanzo’s curiosity got the better of him. 

“What you liked to eat, mostly. He wasn’t very sure about the rest. Said you weren’t really the datin’ type back then. You were too preoccupied.”

A shadow must have crossed Hanzo’s features. 

“All the better for me,” Jesse pointed out, rubbing his back.

“So, the first day at the park…”

“I like quiet places. Thought you would too. What’s wrong?”

Hanzo was looking up at him in wonderment. He realized that there was no way that Genji could have taught Jesse how to navigate his moods, as his brother had never been very good at doing it himself. 

“You understand me,” Hanzo had no better words to describe it, but McCree seemed to recognize what he was trying to say.

“Because you let me. Thank you for that too,” This earned Hanzo another kiss on the head.

They shared another comfortable silence. Hanzo found that he had grown very attached to McCree’s petting, as the gunslinger continued to rub circles on his back. He spoke first.

“Genji asked me to join Overwatch.” 

McCree nodded. “The team talked it over. We could use someone with your skills.”

“What do you think of this request?” 

Jesse began to run his hand through Hanzo’s hair. “I’d be lyin’ if I denied wanting you by my side more often. But that decision is yours to make.” He tilted Hanzo’s head upwards with his fingers to look him in the eye. “Whatever you decide, we’ll make it work.”

 _We._ Hanzo felt a comfortable tingle spread through him at that word. 

“I also know the diner’s done you a lotta good,” McCree added. “Be a shame to give that up.”

“I would feel better being there to protect you on the field,” Hanzo mused. 

“And I wouldn’t wanna put you in harm’s way,” McCree frowned. “Part of me just wants you here, safe and all for myself.” 

Hanzo snorted, but blushed, pressing closer into Jesse. 

“I want you here too. Safe. All for myself,” he murmured. Hanzo loved how he could make Jesse freeze in place with honest sentimentality. “So what do *we* do?” 

Jesse hummed. “…I’m not a bad bartender.”

Hanzo looked up to see his lover giving him a playful smile. He reached upwards to capture that smile with his own lips in a warm kiss. 

\--- 

As people hurry homeward, their long day done, Hanzo and Jesse’s day begins. 

They call it “The Midnight Diner”, a small—micro, really—pub on a narrow street, under the dull roar of the trains that pass by overhead like the rush Hanzo feels in his chest every time Jesse calls his name, like it was the only word he would ever need. 

Their shop opens from midnight to 7 a.m., only one full week each month, when Hanzo once again steps behind the counter, his cowboy always at his side. 

Do they even have customers? The diner attracts more people than you might think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd started 8000 words on an anime-yakuza crack!fic when this one decided to budge in line. I'm somewhat glad it did.  
> Thank you again for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Actual notes:  
>  **Irrashai:** Welcome  
>  **Daifuku:** Mochi (squishy rice cake thing), with a filling of some sort.  
>  They ordered from a machine at the ramen restaurant (something like a vending machine, that takes money, and spits out the order into the kitchen).


End file.
